Turncoat
by Ellster
Summary: Although on two separate missions, several agents find themselves captured and suspicion arises that someone from the IMF is in league with the bad guys.
1. Chapter 1

_**WARNING:** This story contains violent scenes that might be equally upsetting for characters as well as readers (and subsequent cliffhangers). Proceed with caution.  
(I promise there will be fluff ahead as compensation.)_

 _Authors note:_ _This story is based (in parts) on my previous stories and 'Dunn and Dusted' by ThiessenClocks. I recommend reading those first. Also once again thanks to my amazing beta reader for her patience with my typos, grammatical errors, and (especially in this case) straining story lines, and for lending me her canon and characters._

* * *

 **Turncoat**

 **Chapter 1**

The knock on the door seemed to almost have an apologetic ring to it. Ethan Hunt did not look up as he called to enter, until the door had opened and the man stepped in.

"Oh, Brandt," he greeted the newcomer with a smile. "Want to sit in? We haven't started yet."

"No, I can't," the other man sighed, closing the door behind himself. "Also I came to tell you that your mission's been scratched, since you're one agent short."

"Since when?" Luther asked from the other side.

"Today," the analyst replied. He leaned back against the door and looked down at his feet, arms crossed.

Ethan noticed he not only showed the classical signs of caffeine addiction he always developed around office-work, but there was also something else. And then he realized what it was. "Where is Agent Bray?"

"I don't know," Brandt admitted, looking up. The lines on his face seemed to have deepened, as if to draw a continuous frown onto his forehead. He sighed again. "All I know is that someone's taken her off the active field agent roster. Her status is set as unavailable and as far as I can tell she's probably not even in the country, or at least out of state."

"I thought she wasn't even on the roster?" Ethan replied a little confused.

"No. Technically she hasn't even been cleared for field work and the only reason I could put her on this mission is that we got special dispensation from the doctors," he explained.

Ethan bit his lip. "And we can't get anyone else for this mission?" he asked, almost sheepishly. "You know, our intel is very time critical."

"I know. But I don't have anyone," the analyst complained. "And short of dismantling another active team, I don't see that changing any time soon. I'm sorry, but unless and until I can come up with a solution, this mission is grounded."

"You know we could..." Luther started, but Brandt anticipated him.

"You're not going on your own. You need three people to pull this off, and you know it," he interrupted. "I'll see what I can do. Actually I'll probably come with you myself, but until then you stay put."

"You can do that?" Luther asked, incredulously. "Just reassign yourself like that?"

Brandt had pushed himself off the door and opened it a crack. "If someone can pull my agents out of my missions on short notice without at least telling me, then I can damned well assign myself to whatever mission I want."

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

"So, you two met in field training?"

Benji pondered this for a moment. "Technically, no," he finally replied. "Before field training, she was working in the labs, too. Chemistry and pharmaceutics. There were a couple of R&D projects we were working on..."

He broke off in the middle of the sentence and Skye gave him a glance in return that asked him to continue. Benji took another bite of his sandwich.

"We used to work on the same projects," he answered. "You can't really say we were working together. She's always been more of a solitary person, as far as I know anyway. I wouldn't even..."

"There's movement," the other agent interrupted him.

He nodded almost invisibly, to show he had understood, and bent down, as if to fetch something out of the pocket of his jacket hanging over the back of his chair. In doing so he inconspicuously looked behind himself and saw that their target had indeed just paid and was in the motions of leaving.

Meanwhile, Skye had gotten up herself and headed for the door, so she could continue observations, once he was outside the café.

"Firefly to Serenity, do you read me?" Benji whispered into his com, once she had disappeared from his field of vision.

"Loud and clear," Skye's voice whispered into his ear, tickling his eardrum.

He couldn't help the smile creeping over his face. Then he calmly continued eating his sandwich, watching their target leave from the corner of his eye. Once he was finished, he paid and left.

Outside the streets were moderately filled. It was a cloudy day, and the wind made outside temperatures feel colder than they were. Quickly he scanned the area, but could see neither his partner nor their target.

"Serenity, this is Firefly," Benji stated calmly. "I have no visual, please give me your location."

There was nothing. Then static. Then nothing again.

"Serenity, do you read?" he asked again. Disconcerted when he didn't get a reply, he took out his phone to track the device's built-in locator beacon.

Benji let out a sigh, when the trace appeared as a small green dot on the map, hardly half a mile from his present location. It flickered shortly, but promptly showed again. Equipment malfunction, he decided, and started off towards it.

The dot was moving slowly and lead him away from the square into increasingly narrow and unpopulated side streets. Once he was only one corner away he slowed down. He could hear voices up ahead and carefully inched towards the crossing, close to the wall. Interference at the wrong moment could ruin their plan.

Almost at the corner, he could identify one of the voices as Skye's. She was asking for directions in French. Then suddenly there was an alarmed shout and shuffling noises.

Instinctively Benji took two steps forward, but before he could get a look into the side street, something hard hit his neck, just below the base of his head. He felt his centre of gravity shift, as the road spun up towards him. Then someone grabbed him from behind.

He was vaguely aware of himself kicking and slashing out at his attacker, but he was held in an iron grip. The ground underneath him shifted from side-walk to street to a strange metal structure that elicited a feeling of déjà vu accompanied by a sense of rising panic.

There was a voice behind him. Skye's voice, Benji realised. Muffled, but nearby. He tried to make out words, but the more he focused on it, the more it seemed to fade, as he slowly slipped out of consciousness.

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

"Are you sure you don't want to take this one?" The mocking tone in Ethan's voice was only poorly disguised. "It might be some time until you get the chance to seduce a rich guy again."

"No thanks," Brandt replied promptly.

The team leader found he not only sounded happier than he had ever heard him in the office. He also looked relaxed for the first time since their initial meeting two weeks ago, leaning against one end of the bar.

"For once, our target is a woman," the analyst continued. "Also according to our intel, she clearly favours dark-haired men."

"Your bad," Ethan countered, rounding the room on the opposite end, behind the solitary grand piano.

"Do I want to know?" Luther asked over the comm, from his place in the van outside.

"Yes," Ethan answered enthusiastically.

But Brandt interjected: "No." It was a fact.

"I've got eyes on the target," Ethan cut the conversation short. "I'm going in."

"Acknowledged. Moving out," Brandt answered. And while Ethan walked up to a woman in an almost beyond stereotypical blond hair and blue eyes look, he downed the rest of his drink and walked over to the elevator, his suit jacket casually slung over his shoulder.

Once he was inside, had pressed the button and the doors had closed, Luther chimed in again. "So what was that all about?"

"What do you mean?" Brandt asked innocently.

"You and Ethan and seducing rich guys..." the technician elaborated.

"That's a long story," Brandt replied.

"So are you gonna tell me?"

In that moment the door of the lift opened. Brandt looked up at the electronic display, but he still had several floors to go. Instead a tired looking middle-aged woman was herding three rebellious children and four large suitcases into the small cabin. Pressing back against the wall, he aimed an apologetic half-shrug in the direction of the security camera.

Two floors later the woman and her entourage left the elevator, and Brandt was glad he was alone again, when Luther called: "We've got movement."

"What kind of movement?" Brandt asked.

"They... in..." The rest was swallowed in static.

"Control, repeat," the agent requested, but the only thing that came back was white noise.

The lift doors opened again, but nobody was outside. Increasingly uncomfortable Brandt waited for the doors to close.

"Control, Frenzy, do you read?" he asked again. "Anyone, this is Bandit. Come in."

When the elevator finally stopped on the right floor, Brandt was sure communications were down. His only choice now was to improvise. And since he didn't know where anyone was, his best shot was to go on as planned.

The corridor was empty, so he quickly walked to the room in question. There he noticed that the door was not only not locked, but open a crack. Carefully he pressed his hands against it, hoping to catch a glimpse of what was going on inside without alarming the occupants.

What Brandt glimpsed was very disconcerting. Ethan was shirtless, lying on the carpeted floor, in a strangely twisted way, half on his back, half on his side. The lower half of his body was covered by the skirts of the blond and blue eyed woman, but she herself was covered by the door-frame.

Hunt looked up in alarm, when the door opened. But not at the analyst, rather at something behind him.

Then something hard hit Brandt sharply over the head.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Ethan woke up with a fierce headache that felt as if something was crushing his head from the inside. The fact that he could recount at least three recent instances when he had felt worse should have been a reason for concern, but he dismissed it and tried to open his eyes instead. He was rewarded with blinding light and a flash of nausea, so he closed them again immediately.

"Nice of you to finally come around," a sonorous voice said to his left. After a moment his brain identified it as belonging to Luther.

Ethan tried to articulate an answer, but it came out as prolonged groan.

"The good news is, this goes away more quickly than a regular hangover," another voice replied from the other side. "Just maybe try not to throw up."

Trying to heed the advice, Ethan fought against his revolting stomach with a deep breath and blinked into the light more carefully. Slowly his head started to clear up. Enough that he realized something. "Benji?" he asked, confused. "How is it you're here?"

"The same way you are," the Brit answered darkly.

"Our target knew we were following him," another voice explained closer to him. Female. Skye. "He led us into an alleyway and we were ambushed."

"A set-up," Ethan stated, finally able to look around. They were in a windowless room illuminated by a flickering neon lamp. Paint that might have been white once was flaking off the walls.

"Yup," Brandt said dryly next to him. "Just like us."

With awareness slowly returning into his limbs, Ethan started feeling stiff. He tried to move but something held him back. His hands were tied behind his back, fastening him to a pipe on the wall that didn't permit him to move in either way. "How long have I been out?"

"A little longer than the rest of us," Luther answered.

"You did get a double dose of whatever that was," Brandt explained.

Ethan turned around to him and found he and Brandt were tied up in a similar fashion. Their hands were tied with zip-ties, securing their hands around pipes. They were all tied around cross-sections or other structures that kept them from moving sideways or upwards. The room seemed to be a boiler or maintenance room, so there was no shortage of pipes.

"Where are we?" Ethan asked. He pulled sharply at his restraints to see if the pipe might give, but the only thing it did was make the plastic cut sharply into his wrists.

"Well, last time I checked we were in Montreal. I don't know where you started out, but we were all knocked out on the way here," Benji commented. "And we did try that."

Ethan ignored it, and instead asked: "What happened?"

"Your pretty girl obviously was a honey trap," Brandt said.

"I know that," Ethan replied, irritated. He felt the little of the pipe he could move along. Hadn't there just been something? "But how did they know about our mission?"

"If we knew that we wouldn't be here," Luther shot back.

Ethan found the tiny sharp tip of the a screw protruding just a little from the clasp that fastened one section of pipe to another. Carefully he angled his wrists so it would rub against the plastic ties.

"Wait," Benji put in thoughtfully. "Is there a connection between our two missions?"

"No. The guy you were shadowing is a scientist who has been working for the government and ended up on our watch-list when suspicious transactions showed up on his bank account a while back," Brandt explained. "And Miss Honeytrap is a freelance journalist we suspected to be a courier for Nolan, only back then we couldn't pin anything on her. We had intel indicating she was travelling with sensitive papers and decided to move on it, although it was shady at best. We hoped we would get some good information out of it, and figured the worst that could happen was blowing a week on nothing and no harm done."

"I wouldn't call this no harm," Luther put in sarcastically.

"Well, apparently our intel was fake," Skye pointed out.

"Or we have a mole selling us off to the highest bidder," Ethan put in.

"Does it really matter which doomsday scenario is actually real, as long as we're still stuck here?" Benji asked.

"No," Ethan answered promptly. "Which is why we're getting out."

As if on cue the plastic of his zip-ties finally snapped, and he stood up, stretching his arms and legs.

"Not to rain on your parade, but we're still tied up," Luther put in. "And that door is still locked."

"I'm working on that," Ethan replied and looked around for anything sharp. But their captors apparently had been very careful to strip the room of anything that might facilitate a breakout. He considered the neon light for a moment, but quickly disregarded it as unreachable. And even now he wasn't tied up any more, the pipes still wouldn't budge.

Disappointed, he turned to the only exit, a heavy steel door with a solid frame and a security lock. He proceeded to check the hinges in the hope of finding a weakness, when suddenly the door opened inwards.

Reflexively he jumped backwards, just in time to not be hit by the door. In stepped a slim man, with straw blond hair and so pale he almost looked like a skeleton. He halted in surprise, when he saw Ethan.

Hunt saw his chance and lunged forward, grabbing the man. But his adversary kicked back against the door-frame throwing them both into the room. Although he landed hard, Ethan managed to retain his grip on the other man, keeping him in a strangle hold.

Still the man was fighting back hard, kicking and screaming. He had one hand under Ethan's grip and the other in his face. He had maneuvered them into a stalemate that denied Ethan the quick victory he had hoped for.

He could feel the man growing weaker in his suffocating grip, but he also knew he was likely running out of time. And just as he thought he was winning the upper hand, the door flew open again.

Hunt only saw the shadow of someone in the doorway from the corner of his eye. And then he felt two sharp impacts in the pit of his stomach, accompanied by the sound of two gunshots, so close after one another they echoed as one from the bare stone wall.

He had run out of time.

"This is not happening. This can't be. This is not happening."

Skye was the only one who could hear the repeated incredulous whisper coming from Benji. From the corner of her eyes, she could see Brandt's gaze wandering, silently assessing the situation, while next to him Luther was screaming abuse at the newcomer. Skye's hateful stare was meanwhile fixed on the small, dark-blond woman in the black sweater who calmly tucked away her gun. She held her head low, so her short hair managed to cover up most of her face, but Skye recognized her easily enough anyway.

The woman stepped out of the door to make way for the men behind her, and quickly the room started to feel crowded. Most of them were obviously minions, but one tall, bearlike man with a head full of short brown fuzz clearly emitted authority.

"Can you please shut him up?" The skeleton man who had come in first screamed in a painfully high-pitched voice. He nodded towards Luther.

Luther turned to glowering at the scene silently.

"And get this off me!"

Visibly amused, the bear stepped towards Skeleton, whose torso was trapped under Ethan's motionless form. The tall man easily lifted the body and dumped it on the side.

Skeleton stood up with a shudder of disgust, and headed over to the woman. He pointed a thin, bony finger at her. "What were you thinking?"

"He would have killed you," she stated calmly.

The man stepped closer, but failed to look intimidating. "These prisoners are valuable," he stated. "You don't kill my subjects."

"So next time we just wait until you're all suffocated and dead," the bear-man put in sarcastically.

Skeleton sharply turned at him. "You stay out of that!" he shouted. "And take her gun so she can't shoot anyone else.

"And you," he turned back to the woman, "Get that out of here before it stinks."

Then he stormed out of the room, followed by most of the minions.

Grudgingly the woman handed her firearm to the bear. "You know he would have killed him."

"Of course," Bear replied. "And maybe you should have let him."

"Sure, so his goons can rip me into mince-meat," she grumbled.

The bear-man shrugged. "You need help with that?" He nodded at the body that was still lying on the floor, leaking a small puddle of blood onto the bare concrete.

"No," she answered resolutely, and with another shrug the bear left. Then the woman grabbed Ethan by one wrist and dragged him out of the room, leaving a red smear. The door closed behind her and locked with an echoing metallic click.

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

"That was..."

"Elaine Bray," Brandt finished her sentence, giving Skye the final confirmation. He sounded hoarse and somehow far away.

"That's not possible," Benji finally said his thoughts aloud. His voice was torn and shaky, it sounded almost alien.

"It's how it is, Benji," Luther interjected. There was only a slight tremor in his rock-solid voice, but it distilled all his pain and anger. "She's the mole. She sold us off."

"I can't believe that," Benji burst out.

"She killed Ethan!" Skye shouted. The room was suddenly eerily quiet. "She shot him, right in front of you! Cold-blooded. You've got to accept it, she's a double agent. And an assassin!"

"Skye," Brandt's voice calmly interrupted her rage and she almost snapped back at him. "There's something by your left foot. Can you reach it?"

Skye looked down to her feet. Something was reflecting the light from the lamp above.

"Yes," she answered with a deep breath. She wriggled as far from the wall as her ties permitted and stretched herself until her left shoe touched the object. Carefully she pulled it in, it scraped over the floor with a metallic sound.

Once she had it up against the wall she could grasp it with her fingertips. It was sharp along one edge and she could feel it cut into her palm, but she managed to position it against her zip-ties and started to work through.

"I'm sorry, Benji," she said after a while, calmer now. "I know you think you know her, but she has tricked you. She has tricked all of us."

Benji made a non-committing sound, when suddenly the door flew open. In came the bear-like man from earlier, followed by four of his helpers.

Skye sat back against the wall, hoping they wouldn't notice the knife. She already thought she had been found out, when the bear nodded in her general direction and his minions came her way, but they passed her by and went straight to Benji.

A moment later there was the snapping sound of zip-ties being cut and from the corner of her eye, Skye could see Benji shoot up like a loaded spring. The first goon was catapulted through the room by his shoulder. The second was met with a fist against his jaw that elicited a crunching sound.

Number three and four were more wary and kept their distance, but the bear himself took on step forward and with a powerful right hook knocked him straight out, while he had been facing the other way. He theatrically shook his hand and left, while his minions gathered up first each other, then Benji and dragged him out of the room.

"Where are you taking him?" Skye shouted, but before she had even finished the question, the door slammed shut. Once they had left, she resumed her cutting efforts, even more eagerly than before.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Ethan woke up with a headache and decided, considering it was the second time that day, it was probably too late to not make a habit of it. Carefully he opened his eyes, but the world outside his own head was dark and his sight adapted quickly. Also his headache was fading rapidly, giving way to more coherent thoughts.

And his first thought was that something was very wrong. He had been shot in the stomach, twice. And yet he not only felt no pain, he also still felt very much alive. Confused he ran a hand down his chest to the point where he thought he had been hit. There was gauze sticking to his skin, he could feel three stitches underneath.

"Hi," said a voice next to him.

Ethan sat up in surprise, but even while he did it, he realised he was moving too quickly and steadied himself on one elbow just in time to not fall over. "Bray?"

"Looks like it," the woman said and sat down next to him, looking at him closely. "How do you feel?"

"A bit dizzy. But beats being dead," Ethan replied and started buttoning up his shirt. There was a small hole in the middle and blood stains around. "So you're here undercover?"

"I am. But you shouldn't be here," Elaine stated curtly. "I'm already in a tense position and that I had to shoot you didn't help. But if my cover is blown, we're all screwed."

Ethan nodded. "Are you in this alone?"

"I've got backup on the outside, but Nestor is monitoring all frequencies, so we're on radio silence. My only mode of contact is an emergency transmitter with a six-hour dead man's switch as a security," she explained. "But they can't help us now anyway. If Dorian or Nestor get only a hunch we're on to them, they'll vanish and we probably won't find them again so quickly. So right now we have to get all of you out of here as inconspicuously as possible. I hoped you'd help me?"

He nodded again. "What do I do?"

"Most of all, don't let yourself be seen. Pick up the others, if you can, and then get the hell out of here," Elaine explained. Then she took several syringes with colour-coded stripes, complete with hypodermic needles, and a hunting knife out of her trouser pockets. "This is all I can give you right now. Blue is antidote, red is painkillers. I'll try to contact you if I can."

Ethan looked at the syringes, three blue and six red, then pocketed them. The knife he stored in his belt. "What about you?"

"I'll complete my mission and try to not get killed," Elaine replied dryly. "This room is unused, so you should be safe here. I suggest you wait a few minutes until the drug is completely out of your system."

Then she was gone.

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Skye thought it had taken her an eternity, but finally she felt the ties give with a sudden snap. She stood up, massaging her wrists, then proceeded to free Brandt and Luther.

"Now what?" Brandt asked.

"We get out," Skye answered with determination. She looked at the knife. It was a thin metal blade with a slightly thicker handle of equal length and seemed to be made of one continuous piece.

Then she inspected the door more closely and finally jammed the blade into the gap between door and frame. She worked for a moment, then the lock gave way with an audible click.

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

When Benji woke up, one of the first things he noticed was that he was hanging from a wall. His arms were hanging in metal braces, originally intended to hold pipes, he guessed, and fixed with duct tape for extra security. His feet were standing on the ground, but were taped together around the ankles and knees.

"Ah, you are awake," a voice said in front of him. He looked up.

The man who looked like a skeleton was sitting on a chair, around three meters away. Behind him stood Elaine, next to them a table held several medical vials and a heap of sterile packaging, which he decided were probably syringes and hypodermic needles.

"I thought maybe we could have a chat," the man continued and stood up, moving towards him. "Just a little polite conversation. Maybe we could start with your name?"

"I don't really talk well like this," Benji replied, trying to sound casual, but his mouth felt suddenly dry and there was a tingling sensation running through his body, starting in his fingertips. Looking down his right arm, he found the tell-tale red spot in his elbow bend.

"I should probably tell you that you were injected with a truth serum before you woke up," Skeleton said. "But regardless of that, if you tell us what we want to know, I'm sure we can find some more comfortable accommodations."

Benji tried to think of a witty retort, but his tongue felt like it was glued to his palate. The tingling in his limbs intensified, until it was as if ants were crawling through his veins.

"OK, I can see that you are a little shy, so let me introduce myself first. My name is Nestor Gladiola," the man said with a slight bow. "It is only polite if you tell me your name."

Benji realised he wanted to answer. He almost did, but bit his lip at the last moment, so he wouldn't.

Gladiola shot an angry glance at Elaine, who shrugged. "Give it some time."

"Alright," he said, visibly swallowing his annoyance as he turned back to Benji. "Let's try something else then. Who do you work for?"

"I..." Benji started, but then snapped his mouth shut. He clenched his teeth so hard his jaws started to hurt. When he heard a metallic clatter next to his head, he realised he had dug his hands into fists and his arms were trembling.

"That's not working very well," a new voice said. The door had opened silently and the bear man had stepped in.

"No, it's not," Gladiola agreed and looked accusingly at Elaine.

"It is," she said defensively. "Just give it more time."

"Or you give him another dose," the bear suggested.

"No," Elaine replied immediately. "A second dose could be lethal."

"I don't care," Nestor decided. "Give him another one."

"OK, that was an understatement," Bray put in, standing her ground against the taller man. "A second dose will most likely kill him."

"Do it," Skeleton hissed with unmistakable threat.

For a moment Benji thought that Elaine would talk back, but then she backed down. He watched her walk over to the table.

Calmly she unpacked a syringe and fitted it with a needle, then she punctured one of the vials and drew up the clear liquid.

Benji could feel his breathing quicken and his heart race when she walked over. He couldn't tell how much of it was the effect of the serum. He tried to establish eye contact, but she wouldn't look up at him.

Then he felt the small but sharp sting of an expertly placed intravenous injection. Panic rose like a hot wave that left him sweating, but cold.

"Let's try this again," Nestor said. "Who do you work for?"

"I..."

Benji felt his teeth clatter from the effort of keeping his mouth shut, but it wasn't enough.

"I..."

The tremors had turned into shivers. He felt hot and cold, like fever.

"I... am..."

He felt his muscles tense up and lock, first in his jaws and from there spreading downwards through his neck into his body. Panic surged, threatening to drown him, although he couldn't tell if it was the panic that made him feel like suffocating, or the suffocation that caused the panic.

"What's happening?" Nestor demanded.

"He's seizing," Elaine hissed, annoyed, sorting through her supplies. She unpacked another syringe and opened another vial, but when she turned to their captive, the bear stood in between.

"He looks pretty dead," he commented.

The woman shoved him out of the way to examine the motionless body. Then she sighed. "Yup."

"You killed him," Nestor said, taking a threatening step towards her.

Elaine swung around, holding the syringe like a knife, and he stepped back. "I warned you."

Gladiola growled, then headed for the door. "Get him out," he ordered. "And Dorian, prepare another one!"


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

They had kept walking silently but swiftly down the corridors without finding an exit or any sign of where they were. Paint was peeling from the broad whitewashed hallways that went on for long stretches only to branch of abruptly later. Skye led them forward with grim determination, checking every door they came across, but most were locked and the few rooms that weren't were mostly empty. Some still had iron frames standing around that probably had once been beds, indicating that the building had once been a hospital.

When she heard voices up ahead, Skye slowed down. Around the corner she could see light falling through an open door into the corridor. Slowly she stepped closer.

"... looks pretty dead."

It was the deep, booming voice of the bear man, coming from inside the room.

Skye felt a knot of bad premonition forming in the pit of her stomach. She inched closer to the door and peeked inside through the thin gap. What she saw made her blood run cold.

She started when she heard someone whispering next to her ear, but relaxed when she realised it was Brandt: "We've got to go."

Skye nodded silently, and they quietly retreated back down the corridor, until Luther, who was now up front, suddenly stopped. There were shouts and footsteps up ahead, but behind them at least one pair of steps was coming towards them, too, and they seemed to be speeding up.

Hastily, they tested the few doors in their vicinity, but all were locked.

"What now?" Luther asked, but his question was superfluous a moment later, when four men rounded the corner.

Brandt was closest to them and charged at one, slamming him into a wall. Luther picked off another one in a similar manner, but they all had had handguns at the ready and while Luther tried to disarm number three, a shot went off.

Brandt flinched when the bullet clipped his leg. It wasn't enough to throw him entirely off balance, but enough that his second opponent managed to land two blows in close succession. He managed to half-block the first, still the second hit him hard against the temple and he staggered backwards.

He regained his balance before his opponent had caught up and managed to keep the goon away with a kick to his kneecap. But in the meantime, his first attacker had rejoined the fight, and hit him hard in the back, knocking him over. With both of them on him, Brandt had no means of defending himself and could only try to deflect the punches, as the fight turned into a brutal beating.

Luther had so far managed to fend off his attackers, but their stalemate was also starting to shift in their favour, when a whistle echoed.

All fighting seized momentarily, and the whistle was followed by a shout. "Stand down," a deep growling voice bellowed. "Or she dies."

The voice belonged to the bear-like Dorian, who was standing in the middle of the corridor. Four of his minions had accompanied him, of whom one was leaning against the wall, not entirely conscious, one was holding his face, the other two had Skye by her arms. Dorian's gun was pointed at her head.

Skye was shaking her head vigorously at her fellow agents, her gaze angry and pleading, but Brandt had already lost his capacity to resist. And faced with the overpowering force of their opponents, Luther surrendered.

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

"Hi, Benji."

Benji stared at the face hovering over him, trying to decide what was wrong. He closed his eyes, hoping it might just go away, but when he opened them again, it was still there.

"You're dead," he finally stated.

"No, I'm not," the face answered. Somehow it seemed to find this very amusing.

Benji blinked, less slowly than be fore. Then he reached another conclusion. "I'm dead."

"No, you're not either," the face replied, somewhat less amused.

Benji decided to just accept that for now. "Alright," he muttered. Then he assumed a position of half sitting up, half rolling over and emptied the contents of his stomach onto the bare concrete floor.

"Are you alright?" Ethan asked, concerned.

"Getting there," Benji said sitting up somewhat more straight. He threw one glance at the acidic puddle next to him, then carefully inched away. "So, how is it we're not dead?"

"Bray is on a covert op," Ethan explained. "She had to protect her cover."

"Alright," Benji replied again, trying to get up, but then decided halfway through that probably he should stay down a little longer. He still seemed very much out of it.

Benji rubbed his face, trying to get the still hovering mist out of his head. Then he stared at his hand. A folded sheet of paper, rather crumpled up by now, was stuck to his hand with tape.

Carefully he peeled it off and tried to straightened out on the floor. On the other side it said in swirly, uneven handwriting:

'Sorry about the hangover. Had to spike your cocktail.'

"Well, that explains the state of my head," Benji muttered and handed over the paper.

Ethan regarded the writing for a moment, then folded it open and spread it on the floor. It was a regular letter-size page with a crude hand drawn map on it, showing a maze-like structure of rooms and hallways.

Only one room was marked, in the same messy handwriting:

'7412

Supplies

6059'

From there a series of arrows followed a winding path of corridors. Alongside them small letters spelled 'WAY OUT'.

"Supplies sounds good," Benji commented.

Ethan nodded his agreement, then gave him another worried glance. "Can you make it there?"

"I'll manage," Benji decided and pushed himself up, still shaky, but more successful than before. He took a deep breath to battle the onset of nausea, then declared: "Let's go before I change my mind."

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

"I think you have already seen that running away is a futile endeavour. Still, I am willing to give you an incentive," Nestor stated. He turned to go and casually addressed Elaine, who was standing on one side of the door: "Kill one of them."

"I thought you didn't like it when I mess with your subjects," she retorted unmoved.

Gladiola stopped halfway out and turned back. "You will make an example of them," he hissed. "Or I will make an example of you."

"Alright," Elaine replied defensively. "Can I at least have my gun back, or do I have to use my bare hands?"

Nestor nodded at Dorian, then finally left the room, followed by his minions. The bear produced her firearm, then resumed his position of leaning against the door-frame.

"Thank you," Elaine said with sarcastic sweetness as she took the gun. Calmly she looked over the weapon and checked the magazine. Then she shoved it back in with an audible click that echoed from the wall and loaded a bullet into the chamber.

She didn't dare to look up at the agents who stood lined up against the wall, their hands tied behind their backs with duct tape. And she didn't have to, she had already made her choice. All three were standing up straight in a bid to look defiant, and she couldn't help but admire their apparent composure.

But Brandt was obviously in bad shape. He was leaning heavily on one leg, one side of his trousers sported a growing blood-stain and a thin and steady stream was continuously trickling from a cut on one side of his forehead, among the beginnings of thick bruises.

Elaine didn't look up as she stopped about two meters away from the group. She didn't look up as she carefully took aim. For a split second her finger froze on the trigger, hesitating out of reflex, but then her willpower won out and she pulled the trigger twice.

She kept her gaze fixed ahead as she lowered the gun, focused on slow, controlled movement. But when her victim sank to the ground and accusing eyes met hers for a split second, full of intense disbelief and confusion, she turned away quickly, jaws clenched.

Then a body hit the floor with a numb thud.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

"She actually made the prototype work!"

Ethan almost started at the sudden whisper next to him. He threw a side-glance at Benji, then looked back at the map and chose to turn right.

"Of course she did, it's the only way any of this fits," the techie continued whispering, more to himself with a mix of awe and admiration.

"What do you mean?" Ethan asked.

"Back in early 2000 IMF started this thing to make us come up with new non-lethal weapons, which, by the way, also got us the taser stun bolts," Benji explained in excitedly. He didn't notice that Ethan flinched at the mention.

"One idea was to make a tranquillizer gun that looked like a regular firearm, with hollow-core bullets that were outfitted with an injection mechanism. Only it didn't work all that well. We had the gun with a lower powered firing mechanism and the bullets, but the catch was making a serum that would knock someone out enough to make them appear dead while not actually killing them, and that would not be destabilised by the forceful acceleration or react with the alloy of the bullets," he continued. "I wasn't really involved in it back then, but I found it pretty interesting and I know that Elaine worked in pharmaceutics before we went into field training, so I'm pretty sure she had her fingers in it somehow. Last I heard they didn't manage to figure it out, so the whole thing was put on ice, but it looks like she not only came up with a workable formula, but also manufactured her own serum."

"Fascinating," Ethan commented drily and stopped at a door with a numbered key-pad next to it. He looked at the map again, then typed in the first four digit code that was written on it. With a tiny beep and a quiet click the door unlocked. Carefully Ethan pushed down the handle and swung it open.

The room inside was relatively large. A broad, slightly run-down sofa stood along one wall. Pillows and wool blankets were stuffed into an unruly heap in one corner of it, indicating it doubled as a bed. In the opposite corner stood several complicated machines, among which Benji identified a centrifuge and an autoclave. The remaining wall space was lined with tiled work-tops and cupboards.

"But if that's how she's doing it, and I can't see anything else that would work, we've got a problem," Benji stated thoughtfully, opening the cupboards in turn. They seemed to be filled with various medical and chemical supplies and instruments, sorted into different categories, and appeared to be very well stocked.

"How so?" Ethan asked, thinking they already had more than one problem, while he started examining the cupboards from the other end.

"Because she used two shots on you, which means she's probably using a double dose as standard," Benji explained. "The bullets are pretty complicated to make, so when we needed some for test we only ever made a batch of five. I don't think Elaine managed to make some herself, so that would leave her with only one full dose left."

Ethan pondered this for a moment. "Then we'll just have to find everyone and get out of here before that becomes a problem," he decided and opened the next door.

"You know, it sounds so easy when you say that," Benji muttered, then decided that their problems were neither soluble in acetone nor in salicylic acid. With a sigh he closed the last door and took another look around the door, when he saw Ethan push himself up on the worktop. "Ethan, what are you doing?"

"Come here," he said, not taking his eyes off the inside of the closet.

Benji rounded the table that filled out the middle space of the room so he could have the same perspective, then followed Ethan's gaze.

"What am I looking at?" he asked, confused.

"That wall," Ethan replied, pointing at the left closet. Then he pointed to the right. "And that wall. It looks like one is thicker."

Benji looked to the left, then to the right, and back. "You're right," he stated.

Ethan knocked at the back. It sounded wooden and hollow. Not able to see inside the cupboard very well from his new position he started to pat down the walls, until his fingers found something he hadn't expected.

"I think I found something," he sated, examining the object with his fingertips. "Can you tell me the second code from the map again?"

"Six zero five nine," Benji read aloud.

Hoping that what he had found was a standard configuration number pad, Ethan entered the combination. He was rewarded with a soft click and noticed that there now was a gap between the side of the cupboard and what had previously looked like the back. Carefully he swung it open, then moved back, so they could both look inside.

Benji whistled in admiration as he regarded their findings. The secret compartment was a well-stocked weapons cache, holding several different models of hand guns, complete with fitting ammunition and holsters, as well as other potentially useful things, including flashlights and IMF-issue miniature explosive charges.

"Impressive," Ethan commented with an appreciative smile. Then the agents quietly and efficiently picked out their weapons.

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Skye watched helplessly as the scene unfolded in front of her. Somehow they had not found the knife she had kept stuffed up her sleeve, when they had tied her up, and she had started cutting through the tape that stuck her wrists together right away. But they had made it several layers thick and it took too long.

So she had to watch as Brandt collapsed next to her, blood forming a growing dark red stain on his light blue shirt, spreading from where both bullets had hit in quick succession, just above his left collarbone. And she had to watch as the person responsible simply walked out of the door.

Gritting her teeth, she continued her work, until finally felt the tape tear. She turned to Luther, to free him of his ties, then she wordlessly stormed to the door.

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

"I'm starting to think you're actually enjoying this," Dorian commented amused as they walked away together.

"I might if Nestor wasn't such an ass," Elaine retorted dryly.

Dorian chuckled. "Come on, he's always been like that."

"Actually I think he's become worse since he's in charge," Elaine growled. "And the way things are going he'll probably kill me out of a whim anyway, no matter what I do."

"Maybe you should have let the prisoner kill him then," Dorian mused.

"It's too late for that now anyway," the woman sighed. "And alone I don't stand much of a chance anyway. He has too many loyal followers, and if they find out I'm not happy with him, I'm history."

"Are you suggesting something?" Dorian asked with a hidden smile.

"Well, I am not the only one who might benefit from a change in leadership," Elaine stated.

Dorian stopped and looked at her thoughtfully, then he grinned. "I like your thinking," he said and disappeared through the door behind him.

Glad she was finally alone, Elaine turned back down the corridor. She hurried her steps, just short of running, hoping she would not be intercepted. This was her chance to get everyone out and then sort out her mission.

She was almost back at the room she had left earlier, when the door was opened from the inside. Reflexively she drew her gun, but the surprise delayed her for a split second, enough for her opponent to act first. The kick was hardly aimed, but delivered with such power that she stumbled backwards, and followed up by a quick succession of punches that had her back up against the wall.

Skye charged at her, knife in hand, and backed against the wall as she was, Elaine couldn't evade. More reflexively than voluntarily, she raised her hand in the half hearted attempt of a block and succeeded in knocking back her attacker's arm. Instead of her neck, the blade sliced through her hand, getting stuck between her second and third metacarpal. Her firearm clattered to the floor.

Elaine had the foresight to secure the knife for herself, but beyond that could only try to deflect the onslaught raining down on her. Just as she freed the knife from her hand, a knee in her stomach made her stagger and while she still tried to regain her balance another punch hit her hard in the chest. The hits were lacking in precision, but they made up for it in excessive force. They literally pushed the air out of her, leaving her breathless on the floor.

But Skye didn't let off. Mercilessly she kept bombarding her victim with punches, even as her guard fell, distilling in them all the rage and hatred she had built up. She threw them blindly and aimlessly, and enjoyed the feeling of bone crunching under her knuckles. When a hand grabbed her shoulder, she whirled around, but her fist was caught by a hand stronger than hers.

"Skye," Luther urged, indicating that he had already called her more than once. "We've got to get out."

Skye took a deep breath to calm herself, then nodded. She could now hear the footsteps too, approaching them from one side. They sounded slow and calm, but were steadily coming closer nevertheless. Quickly she swiped the gun from the floor, then led the way into the opposite direction.

It didn't take long until she heard shouts behind them. The footsteps sounded louder and faster now. Skye fell into a run, when the first gunshots echoed from the walls. She half turned when she heard something fall behind her, ready to stop for her fellow agent, but Luther wouldn't have it.

"Go!" he shouted forcefully, and Skye turned around and sprinted down the corridor, vanishing around the corner.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

"God, that looks awful."

Elaine carefully blinked in the direction of the voice and looked at the several overlaying faces, until she discovered that if she kept her right eye closed they condensed into two. More specifically those of Ethan and Benji, both looking at her concerned.

"'mokay," she muttered and discovered her speech was slightly slurred. She tried to take a deep breath, but her nose felt entirely blocked. Trying to asses the damage to her face more objectively, she raised her hand, but found it caught up somewhere.

"Hold still," Benji ordered and unravelled the bandage that had become tangled up.

Elaine decided to use her left and instead and carefully ran it over her face. The area around her right eye felt hot and tense, like a very full water balloon, and snot was running out of her nose. When she drew away her hand the snot turned out to be blood. With a sigh she smeared it onto her already bloody trousers.

"What happened?" Ethan asked, while Benji finished up his bandage.

"Your girlfriend packs a punch," she answered more clearly now. "Don't worry, I'm fine."

Just then a gunshot sounded further down the hallway, making all three agents perk up.

"You should..." Elaine started, waving in the direction the sound had come from, but before she could finish the sentence she was interrupted.

"I'll go," Ethan decided and was already up.

Elaine tried to get up and after him, but as soon as she was only a little away from the floor it folded back towards her.

Benji gently shoved her against the wall. "You should stay down," he ordered. "At least a little longer."

Elaine sighed, then nodded her agreement.

"I shot Brandt," she suddenly said. "Can you take care of that?"

Benji nodded. "Where?"

Elaine pointed at the door that was still open a crack.

"Alright," Benji said and stood up, then looked from her to the door and back indecisively.

"Go on," she reassured him. "I'll be fine, and you should get him out of here before someone else comes along."

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Luther stumbled and fell, when pain shot through his leg from behind. "Go!" he shouted at Skye, even while still falling, and thankfully she obeyed. Using the momentum of his fall, he rolled over and pushed himself back up with one arm and his good leg.

In the same motion he directed one punch at a guy who had come up directly behind him and slammed it into his jaw, which sent the man to the floor. He turned to a second man while more gunshots sounded around him, but this goon was better prepared and blocked most of his attacks. Then the man countered with a kick to the knee of his already injured leg and Luther stumbled backwards.

The agent almost regained his balance, but the goon followed up with a higher placed kick against his chest and he fell flat onto the back. Before Luther could move aside, his adversary stood above him, gun drawn, one foot slightly lowered above his sternum. Then the goon suddenly collapsed. After that everything was eerily silent.

Luther sat up half and took a look around. Several human forms were scattered around him, but all still and unmoving. Then he spotted the shape coming towards him and blinked.

"Are you alright?" Ethan asked, holstering his gun and knelt down next to his friend, once he had made sure there was no more threat.

"You got to ask," Luther muttered and rolled the body off his torso. He appropriated the dead man's gun in the process. "So what did you do to not be dead this time?"

Ethan had already spotted the bleeding on his leg and started tightly wrapping a bandage around it. "Elaine's working a cover and she's got a gun with fake bullets."

"Damn," Luther muttered. "We beat her up pretty bad."

"She's alright," Ethan assured him. "Can you get up?"

Luther nodded and accepted the helping hand to pull himself back on his feet. "Let's go find the kid."

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

"Shit."

Brandt sighed and closed his eyes again in a frown.

"Don't move," Benji ordered annoyed and scraped the crumbled-up and now useless butterfly strip off his gloved finger. He picked up another one and carefully placed it over the cut, gently pulling together the edges.

Brandt flinched slightly, but did his best to stay still. "I knew it," he muttered. "I knew it. I knew it. I knew it."

"You knew what?" Benji asked and pulled off his rubber gloves. They peeled off his fingers with a snap.

"Elaine is on a mission, covert," Brandt explained and pushed himself into a sitting position. "And everything she's done so far was probably to protect her cover."

"Yeah," Benji said and blinked in confusion. "How do you know that?"

Brandt started buttoning up his shirt. "When Elaine was taken off the active agent roster two weeks ago, she didn't just disappear. Someone marked her as unavailable. No one had requested her for a mission at the time, and it was weird because I had earmarked her for the op with Ethan, so when I couldn't get any specifics at the time, other things became more important and I forgot about it. But I should have known that whatever she's doing is at least semi-official," he explained.

"Also all the time we've been her 'prisoners' she never looked at either of us directly. She always kept her gaze down, because she thought her act wasn't good enough to hold up face to face, and she didn't want to risk us inadvertently blowing her cover." Brandt stood up, steadying himself against the armrest of the sofa.

"Maybe you should stay down a bit," Benji suggested, although not entirely convincing. He had tried to not worry about the others, especially Skye, focusing instead on Brandt, who was in more immediate need of help. But the analyst brought the thought back full force.

"No," Brandt decided vehemently. "You know Luther and Skye. They think Elaine killed you and Ethan and me. They'll find a way to get out eventually, and if they find her, they'll kill her. We have to find her first."

Quickly Benji hurried after him out of the door.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Skye quickly slipped into a room and closed the door behind her. Panting, she leaned back against the door and listened. The gunshots had seized and even as she waited she couldn't hear any footsteps or other noises. She breathed deeply until she felt her pulse slow down and started to relax.

Once she was sure there was no more immediate danger, she slid down into a sitting position and assessed her situation. She didn't know where the exit was, but a had rough mental map of where she had been and therefore a pretty good idea of where it wasn't.

She had lost the knife, but picked up a gun in return. She ejected the magazine and cursed. There was only one bullet left. One bullet that could solve all her problems, right here, right now.

Skye bit her lip and shoved the magazine back in, then she loaded the gun. One bullet meant she had one shot. And she knew who this one shot was for. She couldn't let her get away.

Decidedly, Skye pushed herself up. She listened at the door a moment longer, before she opened it and slipped out. She turned away from where she had come and swiftly moved down the corridor, keeping to the wall.

She continued venturing into unknown territory, but found herself back walking in a circle when the corridor bent. Slowly she moved towards the corner, then stepped forward and stopped. Ahead of her was a T-junction and a figure was moving across that. Skye wasn't entirely sure who it was, but she was sure enough to take a risk.

She positioned herself in the middle of the corridor, gun at the ready. "Bray!" she called, moving closer in measured strides.

The figure stopped and turned, and Skye saw that she had been right. She took some satisfaction in seeing that the right side of Elaine's face was bruised black and swollen up and her nose was cracked and bleeding.

"Skye," the woman answered calmly. She slowly raised her hands. "Let me explain."

"No. You don't get to explain," Skye interrupted her drawing continuously closer until they were only about two meters apart. Her voice sounded unnaturally shrill and high pitched, even in her own ears. "You killed Benji," she stated and almost choked on the words. But she continued. "You killed Ethan. And you killed Brandt. And now you die."

"Skye," the other woman started again. Her voice was calm, no fear, no pleading. At most there was resignation. Skye was almost disappointed.

But she had had enough. Skye quickly took aim and without hesitation she pulled the trigger. She watched as the impact of the bullet snapped her victims head backwards and against the wall, where the body slid down until it lay on the floor motionlessly.

Skye closed the distance with two long strides, then bent down over the body. Quickly she found the knife which she tucked into her belt and moved on. The next corridor seemed to stretch endlessly and with few doors along the way she felt uncomfortably exposed. The corner up ahead turned into a safe haven, promising cover from anyone who might come up behind her. But when she had almost reached it, two figures stepped around the bend.

Skye stopped dead and reflexively raised her gun, although she knew she was out of bullets. And then she just stared. The hand with her gun sank to her side as if her arm wasn't strong enough to hold it up any longer.

One of the men came running towards her, while the other stayed to the side, keeping a watchful eye on their surroundings. But Skye hardly noticed him, her focus entirely captivated by the man in front of her.

"Benji?" she whispered incredulously when he was hardly a pace away. A corner in the back of her mind told her that it simply couldn't be, but she couldn't deny he looked very much like Benji as he stood before her with his huge happy smile.

"Yes, it's me," he replied softly and carefully pulled her into a soft hug.

Skye leaned into his arms and deeply breathed in the very Benji scent. Either this was really him or a very elaborate hallucination. "But... but...?"

"Elaine is working a cover," he explained. "She got us out, but had to protect her identity."

Skye stiffened when the implications started to sink into her mind. "Oh god," she said, but fell into a whisper when her voice broke. Her body suddenly felt numb and nauseous. "I shot her. I just shot her..."

"It's OK," Benji interrupted her. His voice was husky and there was a clear edge of pain, but pulled her closer, into a tight hug.

Skye didn't resist.

"Sorry to interrupt," Brandt said behind them. "But we shouldn't stay here."

"Right," Benji said and took a step back. He met Skye's look with a sad, but somehow reassuring smile, then his gaze slipped and the smile turned into a thoughtful frown. Carefully he took the gun from her limp fingers. "Where did you get this?"

"Elaine," Skye explained, while he examined it with sudden curiosity. "I took it..."

"And you shot her with this?" Benji asked with intense urgency.

"Yes," Skye replied, her confusion rising when his face suddenly lit up and he gave her a quick, tight squeeze. "What...?"

"It's the prototype," Benji told Brandt, then turned back to Skye. "I'll explain it later in detail. The important thing is, Elaine is probably still alive and we have to find her."

Slowly the meaning of his words started to sink in. "I left her that way," Skye said more composed, starting back the way she had come from earlier, but Brandt stepped in their way.

"I'll go," he decided. "Go back to the lab, I'll meet you there."

Benji nodded his thanks, then they left in different directions.

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

"What is this?" Nestor exclaimed dismayed at the open door and the empty room beyond.

"They've escaped," Dorian stated calmly, leaning against the wall. He wanted a smoke. He always wanted a smoke, especially in here, because Gladiola didn't permit it. But now he wanted it more than usual.

"I can see that!" Nestor huffed. "But how did it happen."

The taller man shrugged. "I don't know," he said and earned an angry glare.

Gladiola turned back to the door. "Who was the last one in here?"

"Me and the witch," Dorian replied. "But I saw her lock and leave."

"That little beast," Nestor muttered. "I'll kill her." He walked towards the door, but before he could leave, the bear stood in his way.

"Don't you think you're a bit too harsh?" he suggested. "They've escaped before and you don't know it's her fault."

Nestor scowled. "You know what? I don't care," he said and placed a bony finger on the other man's sternum. "And you should be very careful, Dorian. You yourself are walking on very thin ice."

"We'll see," Dorian growled. He held Nestor's gaze for another moment, then he turned and left.

Gladiola wanted to throw some abuse after him, but couldn't think of anything, so he ran off in the other direction, fuming.

He stopped, when he came across a collection of dead bodies blocking the corridor. Nestor only took a moment to confirm their identity, and cursed. He waved at two of his minions to take the lead before they continued.

They proceeded more carefully, until they came across a figure slumped against the bottom of a wall and Nestor motioned them to stop. He kicked the heap with his foot and it unrolled into a body.

"You lucky bastard," he said, stooping down next to it. Then he stood up and waved his goons on.


	8. Chapter 8

_Thanks for staying with me so far._

 _If you like mine and ThiessenClocks' writings, also check out her latest story_ Lock & Load. _It's listed as a crossover, and I know that many don't like to read those as much, but it's really good and worth it._

* * *

 **Chapter 8**

It didn't take long until Brandt started thinking that it probably was a bad idea to go alone, especially considering he was not in top shape himself. But Skye had been visibly upset, and after what he had gathered from their conversation he simply hadn't wanted her to have to go back, and leaving her alone had also seemed like a bad idea. Yet while the injury on his leg wasn't very bad, he was starting to feel the continuous blood loss, general exhaustion and what probably was a concussion.

He almost ran into someone twice as he followed Skye's directions. The first time he had managed to duck into a room which had turned out unlocked and empty. The second time they had passed hardly a meter in front of him, while he squeezed himself against the frame of a closed door. Both times, luckily, they had passed without noticing him.

Brandt waited a few seconds until he was sure the coast was clear, then he moved on carefully, keeping close to the wall until he rounded the corner. There he found a hunched over figure lying on the floor.

It took him a while to recognize Elaine. A thick black bruise had started spreading outward from her right eye-socket, the corresponding eye swollen shut. The rest of her face was smeared with blood, a small stream running down over her left cheek, fed by a trickle emerging from her nose and a gaping circular hole in the middle of a forehead.

Brandt dropped his caution and ran the last few steps. He only took a quick glance around to make sure there was no immediate danger before he dropped down beside her. Gently he turned her head to the side to search for a pulse under her jawline. He was almost surprised, and also very much relieved when he found it, slow, but strong and regular.

Carefully he examined the cut on her forehead. White bone was shimmering through the gory mass of half coagulated blood, and while it looked gruesome enough, it indicated that it was only a superficial injury.

Brandt let out a sigh, then noticed movement. "Hey," he said softly and she blinked back sleepily. "How are you doing?"

Elaine's gaze swept across him unfocused for a moment before it started to zero in. Then he thought he could see something almost like a smile when she muttered: "We should really stop meeting like this."

"Agreed," Brandt replied and helped her sit up. She looked more than a little unsteady. "But that doesn't answer my question."

"Headache of a lifetime," Elaine replied and blinked again. When she caught his concerned look, she elaborated: "Concussion, whiplash, probably broken nose."

As if remembering it just then, she ran the back of her hand, and in extension her sleeve, over here face and looked at the bloody snot it gathered in dismay. Brandt gently caught her hand before she could also wipe it over her forehead and probably mess that up even more.

"Oh, and I got stabbed," she added, almost proudly holding up her bandaged right hand. Then Elaine seemed to recall something else, her voice suddenly urgent: "You have to find Skye."

"She's alright," Brandt reassured her calmly. "Benji's with her."

"Good," Elaine sighed and leaned back against the wall, so he could examine the cut more closely.

"You should probably have that stitched up," Brandt decided, dabbing away the surrounding blood with his shirtsleeve, careful to not actually touch the wound.

"Yeah," she agreed, almost sarcastically.

Brandt looked at her more closely. Under the layer of blood and grime, she looked very pale. "Can you walk?"

"I'll do my best," she muttered and tried to push herself up. Between Brandt and the wall, she managed to get into an unstable standing position.

Brandt put a stabilizing arm around her waist and let her lean onto him. Like that they started off in the direction of her lab when a rumbling voice behind them made them stop.

"Oh, isn't that cute."

"Dorian." Elaine leaned back against the wall with a sigh, but Brandt kept his arm in place, just in case.

"It was pretty clever of you to try and play me against the old man," the bear said stepping closer, flanked by four of his minions. "I almost started to think you're actually a decent person."

"I did not play you," Elaine replied calmly.

"And yet you're here with one of our prisoners, who you supposedly killed earlier," Dorian said. Standing right in front of her now he had to bow down to face her. He shoved an accusing finger at Brandt: "They are the people who killed Chester!"

"They are not," Elaine hissed. "Can't you see this is all Nestor's doing?"

Dorian took a step back and slapped her square across the face, hard enough she slipped to the floor.

But the woman just glared up at him. "He's going to kill you, too."

The bear had started to reach for his gun but then decided against it. Instead, he rammed his foot into the side of her head in a well-aimed kick that knocked her out.

"Take them," he ordered his minions.

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

When Ethan opened the door to Elaine's laboratory he found himself suddenly facing two guns. Reflexively he reached for his own firearm, but his opponents were already lowering their weapons.

"Thank god, it's you," Benji sighed and tucked away his gun, making space so Ethan and Luther could enter.

"Where is Brandt?" Hunt asked, looking around.

"He went after Elaine. We wanted to meet up back here," Benji replied, then frowned. "It's been quite a while. They should be here by now."

"Something happened," Skye muttered, then more loudly she added: "We should go after them."

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Brandt fell hard onto the bare concrete floor. Before he could even orient himself, something soft, but heavy landed half on him, half next to him. He was somewhat relieved when it emitted a low groan on impact.

There was a loud clang as the door fell shut, followed by the click of a lock. Then the lights turned off and everything was suddenly dark.

Gently Brandt rolled Elaine off himself while his eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness. Then he looked around.

He had already noticed that their new prison was much colder than the outside. The only source of light was the dim glow of an emergency exit sign above the door, but it was enough to confirm his suspicion that they were locked into a walk-in freezer. The room was big enough that he couldn't see the walls clearly, and it was filled with rows of mostly empty metal racks.

Brandt quickly checked on Elaine, but she was already trying to sit up, so he stood up to take a look around. The door was bolted from the outside as he had expected. There was no lock visible from the inside and the frame was overlapping with the door, so short of unscrewing the hinges it was very much tamper-proof.

He started going around, but quickly found it was a single room with no other exits and no vent shafts that would be big enough for either of them to fit through. Still, he kept his eyes open for potentially useful materials.

"This is starting to feel like the worst day ever," he heard Elaine mutter when he came back around. She had worked herself up into a sitting position, leaning against the metal scaffolding of a rack.

"Starting to?" Brandt asked ironically. He had found some empty cardboard boxes and an old, dirty tarp, which he used to line the floor in a corner behind the door.

"I've had worse," she commented dryly. "But this is becoming a close contender."

Brandt couldn't help but smile. "Well, on the plus side, we're not dead," he put in.

"Yet," Elaine muttered, while he helped her up and over to their make-shift camp.

Both the cardboard and the tarp were as cold as the rest of the room, but at least it provided some insulation against the bare concrete floor and the frigid air around them. Huddled together with their knees drawn up, they managed to wrap the canvas around them both. They sat in silence for a while, but the longer they sat, the more it became uncomfortable.

"Can I ask you something?" Brandt finally broke the silence, and when Elaine replied with a non-committing sound, he continued: "Why did you leave? Without telling anyone?"

Elaine clenched her teeth. Her first impulse was to talk herself out of the question, but then, very softly, she replied: "Because I care about you. And I didn't want anyone to be killed."

Brandt couldn't tell if she had purposefully formulated her answer this general, but he liked to think that in part at least it was directed specifically at him. At the same time, he scolded himself for wishful thinking. "You know," he said, "that equation works both ways around."

"You'd be the first," Elaine whispered under her breath.

Brandt was relatively sure he hadn't been meant to hear that, but he acted on it anyway. "I think Benji cares a great deal," he countered.

She seemed to ponder this for a moment, then sighed. "I guess you're right."

"And I know I do," Brandt replied. He had wanted to make it sound casual, but his voice suddenly felt dry and raspy.

Elaine shifted.

He more felt than saw her looking up at him, questioning, judging whether he actually meant what he had just said. Brandt turned towards her, trying to return her gaze. Suddenly he was acutely aware of his own heartbeat, when only now he realized how close their faces were. And too late.

Their noses touched and she flinched away, her face scrunched up in a painful grimace. Brandt mumbled a quick apology and focused his gaze back ahead, while he cursed his own ineptitude.

Elaine took a few deep breaths, then leaned back again, although she seemed more tense than before. "I think I'm just not used to people caring about me," she said after a while.

Brandt cleared his throat in the hope of making his voice sound more normal again. "Says you who apparently cares about everyone else."

Elaine shrugged, he could feel the movement of her shoulders rubbing against his. Then they sat in silence again, more comfortable this time.

After a while, Brandt reverted to counting the floor tiles to keep himself occupied, when Elaine suddenly flinched. "Are you alright?" he asked.

"Yeah," she muttered, straightening herself up. "I shouldn't fall asleep."

"It's alright," Brandt replied. He knew that falling asleep was one of the dangers of freezing to death, and as long as they were awake they were alive. But there was nothing they could do to get out and she had already seemed thoroughly exhausted before they had been thrown in here. "I'll keep watch," he reassured her.

"But..." Elaine started, but then seemed to see through his reasoning. "Thanks," she muttered snuggling closer and turned her face into his neck for warmth.

Brandt carefully drew the tarp closer around them and gently rested his head on hers, which nestled perfectly under his chin, as he listened to her breaths growing longer and deeper. He couldn't help breathing in her warm scent wafting up to him, mingled with blood, sweat and a hint of flowery shampoo. Her short blond hair was astonishingly fluffy.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Skye led the way back through the maze of corridors, closely followed by Ethan, who tracked their progress on the map. Twice they encountered dead bodies on the floor, but each time quickly identified them as minions of their captors.

When they reached the T-section where she had last seen Elaine, Skye slowed down. "I left her here," she pointed out.

Ethan frowned. "If they were headed back to the lab, we would have met them," he decided. "There's no other way from here to there."

"I don't think they left here voluntarily," Benji declared. He was standing close to one wall and pointed at a dark stain on the floor. The substance wasn't clearly identifiable, but no one doubted it was blood. It was smeared to one side as if something heavy had been dragged through it.

"Then we'll start looking that way," Ethan decided and started off into the direction the blood-smear indicated, closely followed by the others.

Just around the next corner, he suddenly found himself face to face with the barrel of a gun. He reflexively raised his own weapon, knowing that the agents behind him did the same, but Skye quickly stepped past him.

"Don't shoot!" she shouted, almost superfluously, because their opponent was already lowering his weapon, and the agents slowly followed.

"Holt?" the tall, dark-haired newcomer asked with a Canadian accent. He had a square, slightly rough looking face dotted with stubble and an almost outgrown brush-cut. The way he handled himself and his weapon spoke of experience and confidence. "What are you doing here?"

Skye was about to respond, but Ethan stepped forward. "Agent Maddox," he greeted the other man respectfully.

"Agent Hunt," Maddox replied, his voice expressing the same respect, but also reiterating the question that was still hanging in the air.

"I assume you are Agent Bray's backup," Hunt stated. "And that you have a signal from her tracker."

"Yes?" Maddox slowly seemed to realize what was going on and clearly disliked the direction things were going.

"We're missing her and another agent," Ethan went on to explain. "And they probably are wherever that tracker is."

Agent Maddox nodded grimly. "Thing is, I have a signal with a direction, but this place is a maze."

"And I got a map," Hunt offered with a smile and spread the sheet of paper against a wall. Maddox stepped behind him and looked over his shoulder while they worked out where to go.

Meanwhile, Benji turned to Skye: "You know him?" he asked in an excited whisper.

"It's a long story," Skye replied with a smile. It was always surprising how he, who was working with the most famous – or infamous – agents of the IMF could still be could still be excited about something like that.

"You've got to tell me!" he whispered insistently as they set off again.

At the head of their little team, Hunt turned to Maddox. "Have we met before?" he asked, puzzling.

The Canadian grinned. "Well, in 2006 I got my nose broken by some young hotshot agent who insisted on not staying in custody."

"Sorry about that," Hunt replied with an apologetic smile.

Maddox shrugged. "Occupational hazard."

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Brandt slowly blinked himself into consciousness and realized he must have fallen asleep, too. His body felt cold and stiff, and every movement felt like he was working against an invisible force.

Realising something must have woken him, he looked around, but nothing had changed. Then he heard the noise at the door, a scraping sound of metal on metal. Instantly he felt alert. Someone was trying to get in.

Carefully he worked himself out of the canvas. Elaine was still lying on his shoulder and he positioned her against the wall. In the dim light of the emergency exit sign, her skin looked deadly pale, her dark blue lips forming a stark contrast, together with the bloody trails that formed black streaks across her face.

Brandt shuddered, not just because of the cold. He felt with two fingers below her jawline, searching for a pulse, but his fingers were numb from the cold and wouldn't register the touch. He wrapped her more tightly into the tarp and slung his arms around his chest. Without their makeshift insulation, he realized, they would probably be dead already.

As quietly as he could, Brandt positioned himself behind the door. He didn't exactly feel fit for a fight and regretted that he didn't have anything to use as a weapon, but this might be their only chance to escape. Then the door opened and he saw several people step in, bright outlines against the light from streaming in from outside.

He waited until the first had come down the few steps into the room, then he lunged forward and threw a punch towards his opponents face. But he was stiff from the cold and too slow.

The man reacted on reflex. He caught Brandt's arm before his fist got even close to its target, turned it into a police grip and pushed him into the wall. Then he suddenly let go and Brandt stumbled backward, but before he could fall, he was caught, more gently this time.

"Brandt?" Benji's surprised voice said behind the flashlight beam. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Brandt croaked, his voice dry from the cold. The sudden movement had made his head spin, but Benji held him until he was steady on his feet again and someone put a jacket around his shoulders. Thankfully he pulled it closer.

He turned around. Someone was standing over Elaine, so he couldn't see her and the vague bad feeling from earlier started to manifest itself in the pit of his stomach. "Is she...?" he started, but didn't get any further. Feeling had started to return into his limbs with a tingling sensation and the former stiffness was slowly replaced by intense uncontrollable shivers that made his teeth clatter so hard he couldn't clamp his jaws together enough to stop it.

"She's alive," Luther stated and there was a general sigh of relief, although Brandt couldn't help notice that he didn't say she was alright. "Let's get out of here."


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Elaine woke up feeling like she was tied to a parcel. Not even entirely awake she felt confined, almost strangled, and started fighting her ties. As a result, she fell onto the carpeted floor before the blanket gave her free.

Groaning she rolled herself into a sitting position, leaning against the sofa. Her head hurt like hell, but it felt rather like a hangover. The right side of her face was throbbing, and her right eye now completely swollen shut.

Carefully she felt over her face. The right side felt thick and warm, but generally, her skin was less sticky. Someone had cleaned her up, she decided. And put a band-aid on her forehead, underneath which she could feel two small stitches. The same someone, presumably, had also treated her right hand to a fresh bandage. And herself to a set of fresh clothing.

She pushed herself back up on the sofa and looked around. She was in a room of around three by three meters. The concave walls and small windows told her she was on a plane. Across from her was another sofa, and armchairs, forming a square around two low coffee tables.

In the middle of the sides, thin plastic doors were set into the walls and one of them opened now. "Look who's awake," Maddox said as he stepped in and put down a steaming cup on the table in front of her.

Bray cautiously sniffed at it, then took a careful sip. "Alcohol?" she asked, regarding the cup skeptically. "Really?"

"Scotch if I'm not mistaken. Not my idea, but I thought you could use it," Maddox replied with a smile. "How are you feeling?"

"Hungover," Elaine answered and took another sip. "On the plus side, it looks like there's no frostbite or other lasting damage, which is surprising enough." She took a deep breath. "What happened to the mission?"

"Well, by the time we got you out of the freezer there was not much left of that," Maddox explained. "As far we can tell there was a fight. So far the sweepers confirmed over 50 dead. Most still have to be identified, but it looks like at least Gladiola got away."

"Damn," Elaine cursed softly, then proceeded to drain the cup.

"Do you think you're up to talking to the others?" Maddox asked, then added: "We do owe them an explanation."

Elaine looked at him pleadingly but then sighed. "I guess you're right."

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

It didn't take long to gather the others. Elaine had kept her spot on the sofa, huddled in one corner, while Skye and Benji had commandeered the opposite couch and everyone else had spread onto the armchairs.

Maddox had taken the lead and opened the round with a question: "What do you know about the Four Horsemen?"

"You mean, like, horsemen of the apocalypse?" Benji asked.

"I think he means the crime syndicate," Ethan put in. When Maddox nodded, he continued: "They were active in the 90s, but very secretive and not well known. Their main territory was the mid-west, but in their prime, their operations reached from coast to coast and deep into Mexico, Canada, with suspected ties to Cuba and Central America."

"The name was coined by the head of the gang, Chester Mansfield. He and his two lieutenants Dorian Sorbonne and Nestor Gladiola called themselves after the mythical figures, taking on the personas of Death, War and Famine, respectively," Brandt added but paused when he started to see the connections. Then he continued, looking at Maddox quizzically. "The gang was dismantled by an IMF operation, after the sudden death of Mansfield left them in disarray, but Sorbonne and Gladiola escaped. There were rumors of a fourth ringleader, but no evidence was ever found that connected Pestilence with an actual person, so ultimately the idea was dismissed."

"That was me."

Everyone turned in surprise when they realized it was Elaine who had spoken.

"I was the fourth horseman," she added silently.

The silence that followed was almost tangible. It was hard to believe that the small blond woman who sat huddled in a corner of the sofa, with her knees drawn up and wrapped tightly into a blanket had been a leading member of one of the most powerful drug rings in the US.

"You got to be kidding me," Luther muttered.

Ethan and Skye were taking the news better, probably best of all, still projecting their usual outside calm. But anyone who knew the agents well enough could see that on the inside they were far from it.

Benji meanwhile was staring open-mouthed and it took him a considerable amount of time until he noticed.

Next to him, Brandt was shaking his head in disbelief. Finally, he produced a single word question: "How?"

"I was studying chemistry and pharmaceutics in college, and started cooking meth as a way to earn money," Elaine explained. Her tone was soft and flat, and she kept staring into her teacup on the table. "I quickly became bored and experimented with other things: Ritalin, MDM, anything someone would pay money for. Eventually, my grades dropped, but by then I was in too deep. I lost my scholarship and lived on the streets for a while, but Chester had heard of my talents and picked me up."

There was a pause and when it became evident she wouldn't continue, Maddox did. "IMF first became interested in the Horsemen when they were connected to the disappearances of several government officials who were involved in investigations against them, and who usually turned up dead a few months later," he pointed out. "We were cautious at first because intel was very limited, but in November '99, an IMF team was sent to infiltrate the operation and if possible disrupt it from the inside. We lost contact with them in February 2000. Two weeks later, Mansfield turned up dead. After that the Horsemen became more prominent and less cautious, but also signs of differences within the group our agents had already reported before their radio silence were increasingly evident on the outside.

"In late March I was tasked with observing and possibly infiltrating the group to assess the situation in the hope that we could capitalize on their in-fighting," Maddox continued. "I found that there was indeed a major split in the group. After Mansfield had died, Gladiola had seized power, effectively alienating Sorbonne and everyone loyal to him. Also, I could confirm that our agents were still alive and held by Gladiola as lab rats.

"I decided to go against regulations and attempt a rescue in the hope that they might have valuable intel, but in the process, I was discovered by one of Gladiola's agents. However I was able to broker a deal with her and she helped me rescue the agents in return for a new identity," he finished and shot a side glance at Elaine. "Sadly the FBI had already picked up on their trail by then and managed to effectively shut them down, but could not get their fingers on either of the remaining two Horsemen."

There was a long pause as everyone let this information sink in. Then finally Brandt asked: "How is it we didn't know about any of this?"

Maddox shot another glance at Elaine, but again she stayed silent, so he took over. "Among law enforcement tensions were still running high regarding the Horsemen a long time after the FBI operation. They, although probably mostly Gladiola, were responsible for a lot of gruesome deaths of police officers and federal agents. So when Bray was granted protection by the IMF, the Secretary agreed to delete all records of her involvement.

"As for the most recent mission," he continued. "I've been keeping track of Gladiola and Sorbonne ever since we found evidence they were working together again around three months ago. I confirmed they were attempting to rebuild their organization, I went straight to Hunley. He authorized the operation and agreed to keep things under wraps for much the same reasons as above.

"Our original plan was to send Agent Bray in under her former persona, together with a small team, but it turned out they were too suspicious and we had to scrap the support. We did not know that their operations crossed with IMF missions," he concluded.

Silence descended again and lingered among them for a while, until Ethan got up. "Thanks for telling us," he said, then left.

The others slowly followed his example, leaving Elaine alone on her corner of the sofa. Only Skye lingered a moment longer.

"I think this is yours," she said, gently placing the thin knife on the table.

Elaine didn't look up. "Thanks," she answered, barely audible.

Skye nodded and headed for the door, but just before she reached it, she was softly called back. On a hunch, she closed the door before she turned.

Elaine was looking up, shy eyes peeking over the edge of the blanket. When her gaze met Skye's she flinched away, but then slowly looked back. "I'm sorry," she said in a soft voice, but clearly. "About how things happened. I gave you a pretty rough time and I know there's probably going to be nightmares that won't be easy. But I couldn't see a better way to do this."

"Well, you got all of us out alive," Skye commented and tried on a smile. She stepped around the table and leaned against the armchair in front of Elaine. "I'm sorry, too. That I beat you up and tried to kill you."

"It's okay," Elaine replied so lightly Skye wanted to believe her. "I've got to thank you for that, actually. You probably saved my life."

"I did?" Skye asked, incredulously.

"Just after you left me there, Nestor came by. If he had known I was alive then, he would have killed me," Elaine stated matter of fact.

Something about this bothered Skye, and after a moment she realized it was the calmness with which the other woman had talked. "You never thought you'd get out of this alive."

"I knew that was a risk," Elaine admitted diplomatically.

And suddenly Skye understood. After all, she had been there herself. "That's why you didn't tell anyone where you were going."

"That, and other things," the other woman clarified. "But yes. Nestor has always been the most dangerous. He's moody and sadistic, I've seen him rip out his victims fingers and toes, knuckle by knuckle, just for the fun of it. I couldn't risk anyone being subjected to that, if I could help it."

"And that's why you thought it a good idea to go in there alone?" Skye asked ironically.

"He knew me," Elaine replied. "I had the best chances. And if I had brought someone they didn't know, they'd just have become suspicious."

Skye replied with who-are-you-kidding look.

Elaine sighed. "Also this is my mess, I'm just trying to clean up. I've tried to deny it long enough, to myself most of all, but I'm responsible, too, for the things they did. The least I can do is try to stop him." She clenched her teeth and sunk her head onto her knees. "But he got away again."

"We're going to get him," Skye said. She had taken a step forward and put a hand on Elaine's shoulder. "You're not alone in this."

"I think I still have to get used to that," Elaine replied, looking up sheepishly. Then she leaned back, seemingly more relaxed. "Thanks."

* * *

 _That's it once again._

 _Thank you all for sticking with me on this one, I realize this probably wasn't exactly an easy read._

 _As promised, fluff will follow soon._

 _Also if you have enjoyed my writings so far, and want to know what the team are up to next, head over to ThiessenClocks' stories, specifically_ Lock&Load. _It's technically a cross-over, but a lot of fun and totally worth it._


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